


Kiss At Midnight

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Explicit Sexual Content, Fireworks, First Time, Kissing, M/M, New Year's Eve, Teenlock, Unilock, alternative universe, resolutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5596369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A New Year's Eve with his drunken family drives John to Sherlock's house. They ring in the new year with champagne, fireworks and a kiss, which leads to some questions.</p><p>HAPPY 100 STORIES!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Year's Resolutions

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> Please subscribe and comment!
> 
> We really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

John watched his sister grab a bottle from the fridge, grinning at him as she took an additional one for their dad. He wondered how many they had already had. His dad was always drinking -- usually he kept himself in check but as it was a holiday he was likely to throw caution to the wind. And Harry had recently been drinking more and more, so John was worried about where this was going. He wished that Harry would stop before she became dependent on the stuff. Just like their dad, she wasn't nice when she was drunk. 

John made his plate up quickly -- just small snacks that Harry had set out since their mum was working and not home to make dinner. He hurried upstairs, eager to get out of their way. In a few hours it would be a new year. He was watching movies in his room but keeping an eye on the time. He fiddled with his phone and wondered what Sherlock was doing. He smiled at the thought. His parents were probably forcing both brothers to play a family game or something, and Sherlock would be trying to cheat to make it go faster while Mycroft complained the whole time. He wished he could go over to Sherlock's, but he didn't want to intrude. But he couldn't help texting either. 

_Try not to cheat too much -- you know Mycroft will be happy if it ends early as well. -JW_

Sherlock smiled to himself when he saw the text -- he'd actually just figured out how Mycroft was cheating and then had beaten him at his own game. He carried the phone with him as he went out to the back garden for a smoke.

_I triumphed. How are things over there? SH_

_The usual. Both of them are drinking to 'celebrate' the new year. My dinner is a handful of crisps and pretzels. -JW_

Sherlock frowned as he inhaled the smoke. That didn't seem right -- John was so good and deserved one night off from babysitting his family. He glanced in the window and then replied.

_Come to mine. SH_

John looked down at his lame plate of snacks.

_Will you feed me? -JW_

John only felt comfortable asking because he was at Sherlock's almost as much as his own house. He always liked it there.

Sherlock thought about all the leftovers they had -- his mother had been unaware of Mycroft's new diet, so she'd made much more than had been needed.

_Of course. SH_

_Okay. See you soon. -JW_

_And thank you. -JW_

Sherlock put out his cigarette and went back inside. "John's coming round," he said to his mum "That okay?"

"Of course," she said. "I think your dad and I are going to go into town to ring in the New Year, so you'll be on your own. Have everything you need?"  
  
"Yeah," Sherlock said, putting on the kettle. "Where's Mycroft then?" he asked.

"No idea," she said. "He left a few minutes ago and said he'd see us tomorrow so maybe he's got a hot date."  
  
"I seriously doubt that," Sherlock said as his mum headed upstairs.

John changed into proper clothes and went back down to the kitchen. He threw out his plate of snacks and looked into the sitting room.

"John? If you're in the kitchen, bring me another bottle!" Harry called out as their dad shouted at the match he was watching.

John left out of the back door without answering. It was cold. He bundled up tightly and headed for Sherlock's. He probably should have grabbed a cab, but he didn't see any passing and he didn't want to waste time looking. By the time he was knocking on Sherlock's door, he was bouncing up and down to keep warm.

Sherlock set out two mugs but just poured one for himself. He tidied up the kitchen a bit, and then he heard the knock at the door. He hit the kettle to boil again and went to let John in.

"You look freezing," he said. "Come on, tea's ready." 

"I walked," John said pointlessly. He came inside and left his coat on for a bit more to really warm up before taking it off and following Sherlock to the kitchen. "No more games?"

Sherlock poured John's tea and handed the mug to him. "No, Mycroft's run off pouting since he lost so badly," Sherlock explained.

John chuckled. "What a baby," he teased.

"Who?" Sherlock's mum said, coming down the stairs. "Mycroft? Sherlock, don't make fun of your brother. Hi John," she added, touching his arm lightly as she moved to get her coat.

"Hello," he said. "Are you guys going to a party?"

"No, just going into town," she said, smiling. Sherlock's dad came downstairs as well. "So lads' night in," he said. "You're not planning on bringing a bunch of girls around, are you?" he laughed.

Sherlock's mum shushed him. "They're good boys," she said. "In fact, there's some champagne in the cupboard if you want it -- for midnight, I mean."  
  
"Yeah, maybe," Sherlock said, glancing at John.

"Well, be good and have fun," his mum said as they left. 

"Bye," John told them as they left. "Thank you."

Sherlock turned to John and said, "What do you want to do now?"

John looked back at Sherlock and sipped his tea. "Can I eat?" he grinned.

"Of course," Sherlock smiled. He moved to the fridge and pulled out some plates. "Turkey, roast potatoes, some kind of green vegetables, I can't remember which, and some sausage rolls. What do you want or do you want a little of everything?"

"Hmm, a little of everything, please. We had nothing," John said.

"I'm sorry, John," Sherlock said, starting to scoop stuff onto a big plate. It wasn't fair how John was treated at home, and for some reason, Sherlock felt a real sense of responsibility. Obviously, he knew he wasn't too blame, but it just made his heart ache a little, which was a rare feeling for him.

"Not your fault," he said. "Only my mom knows how to cook."

"Well, pretend I cooked this all for you," Sherlock said. He brought the plate from the microwave and set it in front of John. "Want something to drink?"

"The tea is fine for now," he smiled. "I appreciate it."

Sherlock sat down at the table across from John. "So have you got any New Year's resolutions?" he asked. "Which are stupid by the way, but I thought I'd ask."

John laughed. "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it." Even though that was a lie. "What about you?"

"Nothing," Sherlock said. "I'm fine as I am." He grinned when John pulled a face and reached over to take a piece of broccoli off his plate. "You don't really want to mess with perfection."

"Please, you're going to make me sick," John teased.

"Whatever," Sherlock said. "Can you list one thing that would make me better than I already am?"

"Smaller head?" John grinned.

"You're cruel," Sherlock said. "I suppose you want to finally get a girlfriend this year, right?" He fiddled with his mug instead of looking at John.

John shrugged. "I don't know," he said. He took a big bite to give him time to think of a new subject. "Want to watch a movie before the countdown?"

"Yeah, let's," Sherlock said. He put the kettle back on and then dug around in the cupboard for the champagne. He turned to John. "We don't have to have it if you'd rather not . . ."

"One glass will be okay at midnight," he said. He was happy that Sherlock was so thoughtful. 

"All right," Sherlock said. He dug around some more to find some champagne flutes. "Might as well drink out of something fancy, eh?" He set them on the table and then went into the pantry to get some popcorn. "I know you'll probably want some of this," he said, glancing up. "What do you want to watch? Don't make me pick."

"Hmm. Let's watch a Bond movie." John checked the time. "We should be able to finish it before midnight."

"I knew you were going to pick that," Sherlock said. "I think you have a secret spy fantasy." He found a page of Bond films on his laptop and then read the titles for John to pick one. He got it going and then got up and turned out all the lamps in the room before flopping down on the sofa and lifting his legs to rest on the coffee table.

John slouched and put his legs up too, only because Sherlock's mum wasn't home. When he did he tipped a bit, falling on Sherlock's arm. He pretended he hadn't noticed, gazing at the telly while then film started. Sherlock felt John against his arm. It was kind of odd, but what difference did it make? It was kind of nice as well. For a second, it felt like the whole house was theirs and they lived there together and no one ever hassled them or made Sherlock jealous, like he sometimes got when John hung out with his rugby friends. He did his best to pay attention to the film, but he couldn't help it -- he quickly got bored. He thought about the weight of John against his arm, trying to estimate how much of their bodies were touching until he realised that was kind of useless. "Enjoying the film?" he asked.

John nodded. "Yeah, thanks for sitting through it with me," he said, smiling over at Sherlock. He didn't turn his head to look properly, because they were so very close. 

"That's fine -- I don't mind the horrible sacrifice," Sherlock said. He moved himself just a little closer so he was now leaning against John.

John went back to the movie. He slowly let his head tip so it was resting on Sherlock's shoulder. His resolution was to be braver. Over the past few months he had learned new things about himself, about things he liked. People he liked. It wasn't just girls anymore. It was Sherlock, too. But in all of the time he had known Sherlock, he had never heard Sherlock talk about that sort of thing. So if John was going to bring it up, he would need bravery. 

When the film finished, Sherlock looked at the clock. "We've got a few minutes left," he said. "Let's go out and see if there are any fireworks." He got up and moved over to the table. He popped open the bottle of champagne and poured some into the two glasses.

John was a bit surprised when it was over -- he really hadn't been paying attention. He took the glass of champagne and followed Sherlock out to the garden. "Do you think we'll see any from here?"

"I don't know -- I'm guessing some idiots from college would probably set some off," Sherlock said. He sat down on the little bench and then took a sip of champagne. "Um, I drank some before midnight. Have I ruined everything?" he asked, smiling.

John feigned an offended gasp. "I'm leaving," he teased.

"Shut up," Sherlock laughed. "I just . . . well, I know you like little traditions and stuff . . ." A few fireworks went off in the distance -- no lights, just noises. "Is it midnight then?" he asked, taking another drink.

John sat down next to him. "One minute," he said, watching the smallest hand on his watch. "Thirty seconds . . ." He was going to kiss Sherlock, just like they did in the films. "Ten seconds . . ." He dragged his eyes away from his watch and looked at Sherlock. He was so handsome. He lost track of time. And suddenly he heard a lot more fireworks. "Happy New Year," he said softly, leaning in and pecking his cheek -- he chickened out of a lip kiss, and he got the corner of his mouth. "I -- that's a tradition," he said quickly, lifting his drink and draining the glass.

Sherlock was surprised by the kiss. "Right," he mumbled, quickly lifting the glass to his mouth and drinking all the champagne down. He felt like he couldn't look over at John so he stared into the distance. Then it seemed like the silence between them had gone on too long. "The fireworks were a bit of a dud," he said.

John looked out at the dark sky. "Yeah," he agreed. "I thought they would be more . . . well, just more," he finished lamely. He was tormenting himself. In the movies he had seen there were balloons and there was music and dancing and everyone kissed someone. This was a stupid idea! Sherlock didn't even watch films -- did he know it was a tradition or did he think John was lying? "Want to go back inside? I'm cold again."

"Yeah," Sherlock said. He poured himself a little more champagne when they got back inside, but he also turned on the kettle. "Sorry it wasn't more exciting," he said a bit stupidly. "Do you wish we had done as my father said and invited some girls over or something?"

John flushed, his stomach twisting and making him feel sick with embarrassment. "It was fine -- I wasn't bored," he said. "I'm going to the bathroom real quick." He hurried out of the room, closing the bathroom door and leaning against it. He was so stupid! Why had he come up with that stupid idea? He used the bathroom and then flooded his face with cold water. Okay. It was fine. He'd have some more tea and then head home. Everything would be fine.  

Sherlock stood waiting for the kettle to boil. Something seemed different between them -- was it because he'd insisted on them having champagne? He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and for a second, he expected it to be John, which was stupid because he was here with him.

_Your father and I are staying in town. Everything okay there? Mum_

_Okay. Have fun. SH_

_Your father definitely is. Are you boys having fun? Mum_

_Yeah. Fireworks were a let down though. SH_

_Be good. We'll see you in the morning. Mum & Dad xxxxxxx_

Sherlock looked at the message -- his parents were clearly tipsy if his Mum was sending kisses and his dad was willing to pay for a hotel despite the fact that they lived ten minutes away. He turned back to the kettle and poured two cups of tea.

John came back out to the kitchen and sat up on the stool by the counter. He pulled his mug of tea close and just held it in his hands. "It's so much colder -- I'll probably take a cab later," he said. He took a long sip. 

"I thought we were going to bed?" Sherlock asked. "I mean, I thought you were sleeping over. Don't go . . .there will be drunks out on the streets and --" He felt his face flush. What a thing to have said to John. "Just . . . why not stay?"

John took another long sip of tea. "I can stay," he said. "Yeah," he added, nodding in agreement. "I didn't bring any pajamas or extra clothes, I don't mind my undershirt and boxers," he said. Then he flushed and looked down at his tea. "I'm sure the guestroom is warm," he smiled, looking up at Sherlock again. 

"Fuck off," Sherlock laughed. "What's wrong with you? You'll sleep in my room. This isn't a hotel, John Watson!" He looked over at John. He was Sherlock's best friend and there was no reason for them to feel awkward about anything -- he must have just been misreading the vibe. "Come on," he said heading towards the steps before turning back. "You're not going to need more food, are you? I mean, we can try to drag the fridge up if you think you'll need something." He pushed John's arm a bit.

John laughed at Sherlock's outburst, and then really laughed, so hard that he bent onto the table to try and compose himself. When he stood to follow Sherlock, he pretended to think about Sherlock's suggestion. "You might need a second refrigerator. Will they fit in your room?" he asked. 

"Doubtful," Sherlock said. "Do you want me to bring a pillow and blanket down and you can sleep in the kitchen?" He bounded up the stairs, still laughing a bit.

"I'd rather have the guest room!" he laughed, hurrying to follow Sherlock. This was so much better--easier. He liked laughing with Sherlock like this, teasing and playing. 

"Too bad -- I'm in charge for the rest of the night. We watched your dumb film," Sherlock said. "You're done choosing." He pushed his bedroom door open and stepped inside. He pulled the second drawer out from his dresser. He pulled out some pajamas and then turned to John, "Take some pajamas from here if you want. I'm going to get changed." He headed to the bathroom.

John looked into the drawer. Sherlock's waist was smaller than John's and his legs were longer. He knew they wouldn't fit and he hated being uncomfortable when he slept. "Sherlock? Can I just stay in my boxers and t-shirt?" he asked, pulling off his jumper. 

Sherlock was already in the hallway but despite that, he still shouted, "I don't care what you do." He stepped into the room. "I mean, wear whatever you want." He threw his clothes into the corner and then got into the bed. 

John took off his jeans, standing there for a moment in his boxers and t-shirt. Then he moved and climbed into Sherlock's bed, trying not to think about it. "Thanks for having me over," he said quietly. The room was dark and he stared up at the ceiling, at nothing.  

"You're welcome," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry . . . you know, about things at your house." He realised he was whispering even though there was no reason to.

John shook his head. "It's okay," he whispered back. 

"All right then," Sherlock said. He turned on his side away from John. "I'm glad you came over though," he added. "Good night."  
  
"Good night," John said.


	2. Bravery

John stayed on his back, biting his lip lightly. The room seemed so silent. "I'm sorry I kissed you," he finally whispered. 

"Why?" Sherlock asked without turning over.

"It was just . . . they do it in the movies and I got caught up in the countdown."

"No, I mean, why are you sorry?"

"I know you don't like all that," John stammered. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," Sherlock said. "Are you uncomfortable?"

John shook his head. "No, I wasn't. I'm not," he said. 

"Okay," Sherlock said. He thought for a moment. That's why it had seemed odd earlier -- not because of the drinking but because of the kiss. But the kiss hadn't made Sherlock uncomfortable at all. So despite John's words, something about that must have made John freak out. He took a deep breath. "Did you want to do it again or something?" he whispered.

John licked his lips and swallowed hard. All of that sounded so loud in the dark quiet of the room. "Do you want to as well?" he asked softly. 

So that was a yes. John was saying yes, he wanted to kiss Sherlock again. "I guess if you want to," he said softly.

"You don't have to," John said quickly. "I . . . I'll be okay if we don't." But he wasn't very sure about that. 

"I guess I would," Sherlock said.

John looked over at Sherlock, his mouth breaking into a slow grin. "Turn around then!"

"I'm supposed to be the one in charge here," Sherlock said before slowly turning over. "Or have you forgotten about that?" He put his hand on John's arm.

"I didn't forget. I just don't care," he smiled. He leaned in again and kissed him softly. This time he didn't miss his lips. 

Sherlock lifted his other hand to John's arm as well, squeezing both arms as John's mouth moved towards his. He kissed him back this time, as best he could.

John kept the kiss going until he needed to pull back for air. "It's okay?" he asked softly. He touched Sherlock's cheek lightly, stroking with his thumb. 

"I thought it was good," Sherlock said. "I mean, you've done it more than have so you'd know better, but I thought it was good." He kept his grip on one of John's arm. "Should we . . . keep doing it for a little bit?"

John nodded, pressing kisses to Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock kissed back. It felt good kissing John -- they were best friends, they spent almost all their time together. John was really the only person in his life except family who Sherlock liked at all. But it was more than like that Sherlock felt for John. He was pretty sure he loved him -- loved him like boys at schools loved girls. Did this mean John felt the same about Sherlock? He lifted his hands to John's back, rubbing it as they continued to kiss.

John tilted his head, deepening the kiss and pressing closer to him. He touched Sherlock's belly and around to his side and hip, fingering at the hem of Sherlock's pajama pants. This felt so good, so right. His resolution already came true, and the thought made him smile into the kiss. 

Sherlock felt his hips press up instinctively. He realised this wasn't just a bit of silliness -- he recognised the urges in his body. He moved a hand to John's hip and pulled it towards him, wanting to feel the pressure of John on top of him.

John followed the movement Sherlock was taking him on, hovering over Sherlock and rolling his hips down. "Sherlock," he moaned. 

"John," Sherlock mumbled. "I know this is stupid but . . . this is kind of like…sex stuff. Are you okay about that?" He kept his body rocking and his mouth pressed against John's neck as he spoke. Sherlock was definitely okay about it -- he didn't have a lot of experience himself but he knew it felt good and he wanted nothing more to feel that good with his best friend. But he also knew John was a bit different and he didn't want John to regret this tomorrow.

John nodded, resting his forehead on Sherlock's. "I've been thinking about . . . different things…about you and us for a while now," he said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner but I want this. I want you."

"Is that why you kissed me? Because you wanted this to happen?" Sherlock asked.

"I wanted this, but also more," John said. He kissed Sherlock softly. "I want us to be more than friends."

"You should have just told me," Sherlock mumbled. He moved his hands to John's lower back, allowing them to move just a bit lower. "I didn't think you'd want to . . ."

John rolled his hips down against Sherlock again. "I didn't think you'd want to either."

"Should I . . . touch you?" Sherlock said, slipping his hand inside the back of John's boxers. "I know what to do."

John nodded. "I would like that," he said softly. "I can touch you too."

"Let's --" Sherlock said, pushing John off him to his side. "This way'll be easier." He kissed John again and then put his hand inside John's pants, wrapping his fingers around John's cock which was firm. He'd never seen John without clothes -- it felt bigger than he'd expected but maybe that was just because of what was going on. He started to move his hand on John, like he did to himself sometimes.

"Can we take everything off? Can I see?" John asked softly, palming at Sherlock's cock through his pajamas.

"You mean with the lights on?" Sherlock asked. "Or just no clothes?" He thought about it for a second -- if he was ever going to let someone see him with no clothes on, it would be John. He sat up and pulled off his t-shirt.

"Let's just turn on the bedside lamp," John said softly, reaching over to do it. It was a soft light, just enough. He tugged his own shirt off as well. 

Sherlock took a deep breath. "All right," he said and slid off his pajama bottoms. He didn't look at himself, but lay back down and tried to act as normally as he could completely naked in front of another person.

John shifted so he could look, his eyes tracing the muscles and lines of Sherlock's body before his fingers followed the same path lightly. "You're so beautiful," he murmured. He kissed Sherlock softly before lying down and shifting out of his boxers. He lay naked, looking over at Sherlock. 

"I am not," Sherlock mumbled, his face getting warm. His eyes flashed down John's body and then he moved closer, pressing flush against him. "I look pretty much the same as you, just less muscular." He buried his face in John's neck.

"You look beautiful," John repeated softly, dipping to catch Sherlock's mouth in a kiss. As it deepened slowly, he reached down and started stroking Sherlock's bare cock. 

"Am not," Sherlock mumbled into the kiss. He moved his hand to stroke John as well. "It feels good . . . what you're doing."

John nodded, humming his agreement. He couldn't stop kissing Sherlock -- his jawline, his chin, his cheeks, his nose, his mouth -- he just couldn't get enough. 

Sherlock made a little moan and then smiled. "Sorry," he said. "I don't usually make noises by myself." He moved his hand a little faster and shifted his legs a little to get even closer.

"It's a good sound," John murmured, his thumb pressing over the tip as he moved it slowly up and down.

"Are you going to make sounds?" Sherlock said as he kissed down John's neck, sucking the skin there.

John nodded, humming softly. "Yeah, I'm sure I will."

"Do you want me to stop talking?" Sherlock asked, smiling widely against John's neck. He moved his hand a little more firmly.

John grinned and chuckled softly. "No," he said. "I don't know if you could." He stroked Sherlock faster. "One day . . . I want to taste the rest of you," he said. 

"John," Sherlock said, a little surprised. "That's pretty . . . sexy, really." He let his hips rock a bit more with John's hand. He lifted his own hand to his mouth, licking his palm, before going back to stroking John. "I could do it to you as well. I know how."

John nodded. "I want to feel you inside too," he whispered. "And I want to feel what it's like to be inside of you." Now he couldn't stop talking, revealing how much he had actually thought about this. His hand twisted, stroking Sherlock faster. 

"Oh my god, John," Sherlock laughed a little. "Why are you doing all this sexy talk?" He lifted his head and looked at John. "Do you want me to put it in my mouth?"

John flushed and buried close into Sherlock's neck. "I just want you to know, I'm not scared. I want it all with you," he said. He kissed Sherlock's skin, sucking lightly. 

"You should have told me," Sherlock mumbled. "Just because I don't like girls doesn't mean I don't like . . .things." He moved down John's body, flicking his tongue over John's nipple, sucking it into his mouth. He pressed himself against John's thigh, thrusting gently.

John's mouth fell open as a soft moan spilled out. "I know . . . we'll be honest from now on," he sighed, his hand moving faster, his hips trying to match the speed.

"Let me do it for a moment," Sherlock said, pulling his body away from John's a little and sliding lower down. He held John's cock with his hand and drew circles up and down it with the tip of his tongue. He slid it into his mouth, getting it all wet, before moving back up and starting to stroke it again. "Did you like it?" he asked.

"Sherlock," John moaned, almost whimpering when he stopped. He nodded. "I did," he said. "Can I show you?"

"Yeah," Sherlock said, smiling in anticipation.

John kissed his mouth quickly before shifting and moving lower. He gripped only the base now. John licked out at the head, then the slit, then he took Sherlock's cock into his mouth bobbing up and down only a couple times before pulling off. He moved up again, using his hand. "Was that good?"

Sherlock moaned when John's mouth was on him, and he gave him a big kiss when he lifted his head. "God, it felt great," he said. "We should do that all the time -- think of all the times you've stayed over here and we never did that. We were idiots." He smiled and leaned against John, pushing him flat on the bed. He crawled on top of him, scooting down before holding onto John and stroking him again. This time he watched his hand and made another little moan at the sight.

John moaned softly. "I can't reach you very well this way," he said, his body arching to stay with Sherlock's hand. 

"But it's sexy," Sherlock said. "You're really sexy actually. Here, let me try this," he added, leaning over John. He wrapped his fingers around both of their cocks and rocked his hips. "That's good, too." He dropped his head next to John's and kissed on his ear. 

John moaned as their cocks pressed and rubbed together. "That's brilliant actually," he mumbled. He held Sherlock's hips, rubbing circles in them. 

"Fuck," Sherlock moaned. "Are we going to . . . you know?" He let his hips move against his hand and John.

John nodded. "I'm close," he moaned softly. "I'm close already."

"Can I . . . watch? I mean, I've never really seen it -- it would be interesting . . . and sexy obviously," Sherlock said, moving his hand a little faster.

"Of course you can," John moaned. He closed his eyes as he let go and came between them, onto Sherlock's hand. 

Sherlock looked down quickly and watched John come. It was both interesting and sexy. He kissed his mouth again and then said, "You do me now." He grabbed John's hand and then sat up again, using John's hand to stroke his own cock.

John panted softly, watching his hand moving over Sherlock's swollen cock, stroking firm and fast. 

Sherlock's hips rocked with John's movement. He looked down and let out a low moan before exploding over John's hand. "Oh god," he exhaled and dropped down on top of him. "Oh my god, I can't believe we did all that," he said and laughed a little as he tried to catch his breath.

John watched him through his climax before slowing his hand, letting go, and pulling him down to wrap his arms around him. 

"I love you," Sherlock said softly into John's ear. "I hope that's okay. I never said it because it never seemed like I should. But now . . . don't be angry but it's true."

"I'm not angry," John said softly. "I love you too."

Sherlock stayed still over top of John for a few moments, thinking of everything they'd done and how it would change things. He hoped it'd be okay. Then he rolled over onto his side. "We made a mess," he said softly.

John nodded. "I'll help you clean up," he said. 

Sherlock grabbed his t-shirt and wiped off their bellies. He threw the shirt onto the floor, reached up and turned off the lamp, and then lay down next to John. "Are you glad all that happened?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, I am. You?"

"Yeah," Sherlock said. "Just -- we're still going to be best friends, right?" he asked tentatively.

John nodded. "Always." He took a deep breath and let it out. "But maybe more now if you want to."

"You've always been more, John," Sherlock said, brushing some hair from John's face. He leaned over and gave him a small kiss. "Even though you eat like a pig, I still like you."

John grinned and fell into a small fit of laughter. "Yes, and I still like you despite your 'compliments'," he said. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "Then do you mind if I give you some advice?"

John's brow furrowed slightly but he nodded. "Sure."

"Well, there's some things that are a little different with guys," Sherlock said. "Like if you've got a boyfriend and you're staying over and his parents are away, you probably don't want to go to sleep right away after all that . . . you know, you don't want to be impolite."

John smiled. "M'not sleeping. I'm fine," he said. "Next tip?"

"You know all that dirty talk you were doing?"

John bit his lip lightly. "Yeah?"

"I liked it." Sherlock covered his face a little, but not enough to hide his smile.

John grinned. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. 

"Any advice for me?" Sherlock asked, peeking out from behind his hand. 

"Um . . .how big would your head get if I said you were perfect? This time, anyway," he smiled. 

Sherlock moved over and curled around John. "You always say nice things," he said. "You're better than me."

"I am not," he said, wrapping his arms around Sherlock. 

"Well, you're different at least," Sherlock said, squeezing John back. "I'm glad you came tonight. I mean I'm glad you . . ," he laughed a little. "I mean, thanks for staying the night."

John laughed softly with him. "I'm glad I came over, too. And forgot my pajamas," he added. 

"Happy New Year, John Watson," Sherlock mumbled a bit sleepily.

"Happy New Year, Sherlock Holmes," John said back, closing his eyes and listening to Sherlock's soft breathing. They dozed off together, warm and happy. It was a brand new year.


End file.
